


Sympathy for the Devil

by Devious_Grayson



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Demons, Angst, Betrayal, Blood, Daryl is 20-ish, Demon Sex, Demon!Merle Dixon, Demons - Freeform, Divorced Rick Grimes, Falling In Love, Fluff, Kinky, M/M, Magic, Rick is 30-ish, Rickyl Writers' Group, Smut, Something!Daryl Dixon, lying, no CDC, very divergent from season 1
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-24
Updated: 2017-06-07
Packaged: 2018-11-04 12:40:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10991127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Devious_Grayson/pseuds/Devious_Grayson
Summary: "It’s nothing much, I just want ya to break my baby brother’s heart."When Rick nearly dies, he's proposed a deal he cannot refuse...





	1. Pleased to meet you, hope you guess my name

**Author's Note:**

> I've taken a lot of liberties from season 1 to write this fanfic. I won't rewrite each episodes with slight differences, it's really completely divergent from the first stanzas, but you'll discover that by yourself. Who Daryl exactly is may prove less obvious than it seems, but hey -no spoil ;-) If you're confused, keep in mind everything will be explained, just not in the first chapter.
> 
> Also, how does one join the cool kids of the Rickyl Writers Group? Asking for a friend
> 
> Beta'd by the lovely [FandomLifeTookMyHandAndSaidRUN](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FandomLifeTookMyHandAndSaidRUN/pseuds/FandomLifeTookMyHandAndSaidRUN) ([CarylDixonandGrimes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FandomLifeTookMyHandAndSaidRUN/pseuds/CarylDixonandGrimes))
> 
> As always leave a comment if you liked or not, I hope you'll like it!

Rick was supposed to come home early. His evening would have been the following: he would have called his son, said hi to his baby daughter, exchanged a few icy but still polite words with his ex-wife. Then he would have cooked himself something, maybe pasta because he felt like it. While waiting for the water to boil, he would have watched the news and maybe switched to Netflix. He would have forgotten about his meal, and it would have spilled everywhere. It would have been a mess. It would have been the worse thing of his otherwise average day. 

But this wasn’t an average day. It had started with the local Sheriff calling him at 5AM, saying this was an emergency and yes he would be home early but we need you in less than 30 minutes, Grimes. Then, the emergency was just a very fancy word to say that someone fucked up, someone else covered for them, and a third person had discovered the whole thing too late to fix it. The first person had been Andrea, a lawyer they often worked with. The second person Shane, his former best friend, former best mate, former a lot of things that didn’t matter anymore. The third in the chain was the new recruit, a Korean kid named Glenn. 

At the end of the day, more than three hours after he was supposed to go home, he had been shot. Now, he could still see what was happening, but from afar. He felt calmer than any of the screaming interns around him. Calmer than the shocked nurse. Calmer even than the placid surgeon. Definitely calmer than Shane, who was crying rivers in the waiting room. He could vaguely sense his body being opened, dug in, spread wide, sewn back in some places. There was a liquid in his veins, but he couldn’t feel it. 

“Ya ain’t survivin’ this. Not so close ta the artery,” stated a rough man’s voice next to him. Rick’s nostrils were overwhelmed by the disgusting scent of illness, rage, gas oil, leather and cigars. There was no way the giant biker next to him would have been admitted anywhere near a hospital, so Rick guessed he was part of the whole hallucination. That, and the fact that dripping red goat horns grew on his forehead. As he turned, the officer could also see that his eyes were aflame. He couldn’t have said if he was as ugly as he saw him, or as adoration-worthy as his mind told him. 

So, that’s what the Devil looks like, he guessed. 

“Fuck no, ain’t no Satan or some shit like that,” snarled the horned man. “Dude’s a relative but sorry ta break it to ya, ain’t no more god or fucking angels than I am Mary Poppins. Different species ya guys adore since start of times, that’s all. Anyway sweetpants, didn’t come here just ta chat.”

“Are you going to reap my soul?” At that point Rick already felt life escaping from his weak grasp, so he didn’t really care. But he still wanted to live.

“Ain’t got no use for no soul, ‘specially a lawful one like yours. Nah, came to strike a deal with ya. Either ya die and then we got no business anymore, or I save yer sorry ass and ya do me a small, easy favor.” The broken-toothed smirk the demon gave Rick made even his dying body shiver. “Ya want ta live boy, right?”

“What kind of favor are we talking about?”

“Ah! So you’re interested. It’s nothing much, I just want ya to break my baby brother’s heart. See, the fucker’s going through a phase. Refusing pa’s an’ mine’s authority, betraying the whole kingdom with his shitty attitude. No, really, it’s not the best way ta sell it to ya but you’d rather be dead than seducing the fucker. But hey, better servin’ on earth than rottin’ in Hell, uh?”

“It’s ‘better to reign in Hell, than serving in Heaven’,” tried to correct Rick before being interrupted. 

“Like I give a fuck. You accept or not?” growled the demon. The flames in his eyes were the darkest blue he’s ever seen, almost black, interlaced with pale blue flickers. His teeth seemed to be made of obsidian shards and he was missing a large, clawed hand. It had been replaced by a nasty-looking scimitar, though. 

“Think ‘bout yer family, dumbass. The wife’s a bitch and I hate ‘em children, ‘specially the small underdeveloped pink wailing thing, but hey who am I to judge other than the demon that will devour their souls if you say no?”

“What guarantees me you won’t eat our souls anyway?” asked Rick, feeling tired and distant. He just wanted to rest, preferably where his parents were probably waiting for him. 

“Think ‘bout Judith, you sack of horseshit. She the only thing tha’ matters to ya so fucking use that useless mold you call a brain. Accept or I take her out, too. Babies are fragile, y’know…”

The demon probably wasn’t expecting the left hook that caught him right under the chin, which is the only reason why Rick managed to land it so perfectly. His victory was short-lived, though. In the blink of an eye, he was pinned to the ground by blades so numerous he couldn’t count them. It hurt so much, he felt his real heart stop. To add to his suffering, the broken ribs from the electroshock restarting it rippled through him. 

“Give me one good reason that I shouldn’t let you residue-of-an-incest die and take yer soul to have fun torturing it until the end of times?” growled the demon, raking one of his razor-sharp claws through one of Rick’s wounds. They were probably poisoned, too, since it burned worse than Rick had ever experienced.

It was too much. He would’ve given anything for it to stop. Even his freedom.

“I accept!” he shouted. 

“Knew you’d come to yer senses,” smirked the demon. “Can’t tell ya my name, but call me Merle. My brother’s a sneaky one and he’ll never use his real name, which is Reedus. Ya can use it to force him ta reveal himself to ya. I’ll send ya the necessary info ta find him. Oh, and next time ya die deal’s over. If ya complete yer task like the good boy ya are and ya still end up in Hell, ya have my protection against Daryl’s vengeance. Good luck, loser.”

Then everything faded away. 

As he woke up alone in a hospital room, a bouquet of withered flowers on his nightstand, Rick could have believed it had been a dream. He used to take great pride in his ability to create the most terrifying monsters for his and Shane’s games when they were children, before they took interest in more “adult” things like getting a driver license, a summer job, a girlfriend, a wife… so it was entirely possible that he had just remembered one of his childhood creations. 

He tried to call for a nurse, but it didn’t seem to work. Weird. A dirty file nearly slipped off his lap when he sat up. His name was printed on it, a dark smudge that looked very much like coal under it. There were criminal reports inside, very much like the paperwork he used to get at the police station. Even the ID system seemed to work the same. Except it was definitely not coming from a police station. Not a human one, at least.

How exactly was he supposed to seduce the man described in there, of whom he had no picture, only a name and a record? The small, crumpled letter signed Merle only told him what he would win out of this, and listed a very long list of what awaited him if he didn’t obey his instructions.

“Oh, and the stuff will destroy once ya read it whole like in yer spy movies. The paper guys think it’s funny.”

As soon as he had read those words, the file immediately caught fire and he had to throw it on the other side of the room. So this was definitely real. He barely remembered what he had just read, the hospital was ominously silent and nobody had come for him. Things were getting weirder and weirder. 

Getting up, he immediately noticed that he was feeling great. He shouldn’t have. Ripping the bandages, he only found a fresh, smooth skin where he was supposed to have been nearly vivisected to get the shrapnel out. Either Merle kept his word, or he had spent much more time than expected in that hospital. 

He got up, and found out the door resisted him. He started to panic. Why was he trapped in a silent hospital with no electricity? The air didn’t even smell of chemicals like it was supposed to, but of dirty hair and sewers. Had he died, after all? Was this a sort of bad prank? There was a ruffle on the other side, and the noise of a something metallic rolling away. Finally, someone had heard him! 

He was going to touch the handle when he heard a strange, ragged moan. There were also squishy and scratchy sounds. He hesitated, then opened it anyway. The other man practically fell on him, his decaying flesh smearing on Rick’s healthy one, diverse fluids soaking him wet and a surprisingly strong jaw snapping a hair from his cheek. He tried to push him away, but he was too strong and Rick had just woken up from god knows how long. The living corpse almost got him when the point of an arrow pierced his head so strongly that it nearly got Rick’s eye. 

“What the fuck was that!” screamed Rick, scrambling away from the now dead corpse. 

“A fucken unicorn. What d’ya think it was?” echoed a sarcastic voice. “Been in a coma since the beginning of the apocalypse or what?” The other man tried to joke, but then he noticed Rick’s outfit and his face contorted in a distrusting scowl. His crossbow was still aiming at the poor blood-soaked man. 

“Ya been bitten or scratched?” he rather asked. 

Rick inspected himself. His fragile hospital gown was so torn it effectively left him wearing only a (dirty) pair of boxers. At least he bore no traces of the attack. On the other hand, the other man looked barely out of his twenties, maybe five or seven years younger than Rick. His hair looked eerily blonde in the mess that had apparently become this world, as did his baby blue eyes. However, even with an arrow pointed to his heart, he looked nowhere near a Cupid, however. His fine features bore no traces or hesitation or weakness. No baby fat subsisted in the hard lines of his body. 

Rick thought it was sad that someone so young could have the eyes of a veteran. 

“I don’t think so,” he answered after having checked he was, indeed, unharmed. Still, his savior was already circling him without lowering his bow. 

“Get up, yer screams must’ve attracted a shitton of them. Try ta find clothes on the way but I won’t wait for ya,” he warned, nearly bolting out of the room. 

“Will you at least explain to me what’s happening?!” 

“No,” groaned the man, not looking back. Rick swore, and ran to catch up to him. As they progressed toward the exit, he managed to steal a bag containing clothes he hoped were his size. The bag was next to an old lady’s (fortunately unmoving) body. She clutched the picture of a young man in her other hand. He tried not to make connections. The importance right now was to survive whatever was going on and find his target.

Rick thought of himself as an open-minded person, but he guessed “Daryl” would either be like his brother but with a bdsm side or an effeminate anime demon prince. Or something. For all he knew, breaking his heart didn’t even have to involve romance. He could just break something he cared for, or stop being his friend. Or sleep with his wife, he thought bitterly, and then pretend they could still be partners like nothing happened. Thinking about Shane brought a painful doubt to his mind. Was his family even alive? 

They walked for hours as the sun set on the abnormally quiet town. Rick had found a pair of shoes that were a little too big, but they would do. Apart from their soles on the ground and the occasional zombies, the silence was deafening. Even more so when the officer noticed he could only hear his guide move because he was paying attention to him. Not that he was. Not consciously. He had so many questions, but none of them were answered by the winged leather back he was following. 

The man with the crossbow hadn’t spoken to him since the last time. Since he wasn’t going to answer any question, Rick used the time to think. He desperately needed to. Worrying about his family was pointless, but he still did that for a while. When he was done, the sun was setting and he still hadn’t been able to clean up enough to dress. He envied the man before him, who wasn’t strolling around basically in his underwear.

At the end of the day, they begun to walk in a forest. It wasn’t as dense as the ones you could find in the Northern States, but in the dark it was equally as easy to get lost in it. Rick had decided to call the man “Blondie” since names were apparently a luxury he didn’t want to waste. Blondie seemed to know exactly what he was doing, where he was stepping, and it was only after a while that Rick guessed he was used to finding his way in the complete darkness, too. 

-

Shivering from his attempt at cleaning himself in the icy river, Rick curled on himself next to their meager fire. Blondie had managed to catch two rabbits in his snares, gutted and cleaned them. The scent of roasting meat finally made Rick realize how hungry he was. They ate without a word. The hunter’s gaze seemed to burn his skin wherever it landed, but it wasn’t the nice kind of warmth he could expect from eyes so attentive to his smallest moves. It was a predator’s gaze, a big cat assessing if he should play with his prey or devour it on the spot. 

“C-could you explain th-the situation to me now?” asked Rick, trying to keep his jaw steady from the cold. 

A deep sigh. “Dead aren’t dead, bites infect ya. ‘s all ya need to know.”

“How long ago? Have you seen my family?”

“How the hell’m I s’pposed ta know what yer folks look like? Three months and you’re the first living one I see in almost two weeks.”

“I see… I’m Rick, by the way. Rick Grimes.”

“Look man, I ain’t interested in making friends here. Always have been better on ma own. Can lend you a blade and then we split an’ never meet again,” stated the man, avoiding Rick’s desperate eyes. 

“I am… I was a Deputy, I know how to fight and hold a gun. I can help,” he tried, but immediately knew it wasn’t the right thing to say. The other man snorted and turned his back to him, growling something about Rick taking the first watch. A hunting knife was thrown in his lap, and that was it. 

He wasn’t tired, not really. In fact, he felt he should have been, but somehow the fatigue felt like it wasn’t his. It was his body’s, but not his mind’s. In the end, the sun rose before he even thought about waking the young man up. His sleep hadn’t been peaceful, so maybe that was for the best. Blondie had muttered strange sounds, tried to catch something in the air, and even opened his eyes in wide horror but never seemed to have truly woken entirely. 

To avoid looking at him all night like a creep, Rick had busied himself. He had walked around the firepit, checked the walker traps he had seen coming in. Then, he had replenished Blondie’s water stocks and maintained the flames comfortably high with dead twigs he had found. 

He didn’t dare look for more food, or firewood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Better reign in Hell, than serve in Heaven" is from Milton's Paradise Lost (1667). It's a very old book but it should interest you since it's basically a canon divergence from the Bible with Hot!Satan and Lusty!Archaic Deities. Really, once you're past the ye olde poetry aspect, it's quite fun to read.
> 
> Also, all of the titles will be from rock/metal songs. First one is Sympathy For The Devil by The Rolling Stones ;-)


	2. Behind blue eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I don't know if I'll be able to publish anything this weekend, I figured out I would publish the three first chapters in a row. 
> 
> Rick and Daryl's relationship develops more in this chapter, and even though there's a lot of ellipses I hope it doesn't look rushed or forced. If I keep being as inspired as I am, I'll probably write little scenes from those moments and publish them later. 
> 
> As always, please leave a comment because I love them <3
> 
> Beta'd by the lovely [FandomLifeTookMyHandAndSaidRUN](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FandomLifeTookMyHandAndSaidRUN/pseuds/FandomLifeTookMyHandAndSaidRUN) ([CarylDixonandGrimes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FandomLifeTookMyHandAndSaidRUN/pseuds/CarylDixonandGrimes))
> 
> Chapter title is from Behind Blue Eyes by The Who

“The fuck you think yer doin’,” were Blondie’s first groggy words in the morning. 

“Trying to make us breakfast?”

The man rose and walked toward him, scratching his belly and yawning so hard his jaw actually popped. Now that he had had the time to witness his sleeping habits, it was no surprise for Rick that dark circles underlined his ruthless gaze. Plopping at a safe distance from him, the hunter inspected the berries and fungi Rick had found. Now, he wasn’t an expert and it had been quite a while since his dad had taken him in the forest, but the things he picked should have been edible. The noncommittal groan from Blondie seemed to be worth a praise for his efforts, so he kept cooking. At some point, the other gave (threw in his lap, more accurately) him the ingredients he missed, without so much as looking at him.

Rick guessed he may have been between 21 and 25, from the way he had organized his little camp. Not overly sentimental enough to be a teenager, yet not boringly pragmatic like most 30-something's Rick knew. So, between 5 and 9 years younger than him. There was something admirable in his loneliness, too. He clearly didn’t need Rick, or anyone, to survive. 

“Ya can’t stay with me, man,” echoed Blondie’s voice from the other side of the camp. He was sitting on a branch, fixing what looked like a bird trap. His lean form and the way one of his legs was dangling in the air made him look very much like the panthers Rick had seen on National Geographic. “You’d slow me down and ya wouldn’t be safe anyway.”

“Humor me. I have nowhere else to go and I’m not as useless as I look like.”

“Fuck. Why must ya be so stubborn?! Why d’ya trust a stranger that could’ve skinned and eaten ya in yer sleep?!” The harsh bitterness of his words didn’t reach his face, completely void of emotions. The slightest hint of it was suggested by the twitch of his eyebrows, but he otherwise looked like they were discussing the weather. He must’ve been terrific in poker games.

“Look, I’m supposed to find a guy or some dude will kill my whole family, but I don’t know what he looks like, or even what his real name is!” snapped Rick, his despair seeping in his tone. “My wife and children live so far from here I can only afford to see them once a year, so I don’t even know if it’s worth the bother! You can laugh at me all you want, you’re pretty much my only chance to survive long enough to fulfill my end of the contract and protect them.”

There was a long pause. 

“Name your price. I have almost nothing but whatever I can give you I will, if I can tag along until… until I can manage on my own, at least.”

Blondie was still as unresponsive as he had been before. His colors melting with his surroundings, he could’ve almost passed as a branch from afar with how immobile he was. If Rick had been looking at him more closely, he may have seen the slightest tinders of blue fire illuminate his irises. 

“The name’s Daryl. Camp mus’ be up in twenty minutes. I won’t wait for ya. When I think about something to ask, I’ll ask.” 

And with those simple words, their journey began.

-

Daryl rarely waited for Rick. And rarely was a euphemism to say never. It was tiring, but he held on. As hours turned into days, killing walkers and raiding stores, they seemed to have found a good rhythm. Each had his daily tasks, and at night they always took watch in the same order. Rick would leave the wee hours of the morning for Daryl to try to sleep, as his nightmares were less frequent, and in turn Daryl would leave an exhausted Rick to fall on his newly acquired sleeping bag as soon as they had eaten. 

The younger man had probably learned more about Rick than most people he used to know, but never shared in return. If he had had a family, a house, friends, or even movies he enjoyed, it was better kept than classified files. Still, the former officer noticed some details, out of habit. Daryl knew plants very well, not just local species but all kinds of flowers, roots, leaves they would encounter. He had a preference for meat, and would choose beer over water without hesitation. 

The only real, non-practical interest he had were motorcycles. His fascinating eyes had been glued to a powerful Harley Davidson once, and he even put his hand on it, caressing the smooth metal as if it was a horse’s mane. Rick guessed then he wasn’t some kind of better-looking Bear Grylls, but a young man who grew up in a peculiar environment, after all. He had never seen him as much as smile, but he guessed the small decrease in the number of insults he could get was a sign he warmed up to him.

“Will you take it?” he asked, his back turned to Daryl so he could watch their surroundings.

“Has no gas. ‘s a pure beauty though. 1949 Hydra-Glide FL, with custom retro colors. See the wide tires? That’s for long-distance trips,” explained Daryl, a forlorn look in his eyes. 

Rick kept his mouth shut. It was one of those extremely rare moments his companion spoke more than 10 words in a row. Something as rare as good food these days.

“Used ta ride my brother’s old XR 1000, a rusted thing from the 80’s that I restored entirely.”

“What happened?” asked Rick, purposefully not aiming the question at Daryl’s brother or his bike. 

“One a’em died, the other probably still in prison. Say Grimes,” he added after a short silence. “If the price I asked was to sleep with me, would ya?”

After the initial shock had passed, Rick still couldn’t determine how serious the younger man was. No smirk or grin could indicate the question was a joke, or a lame attempt at flirting. Settling for the first, he answered with a crooked smile.

“You’d waste your time, I’ve only been with one woman and she left me for someone better in bed.”

“Glad ta know yer not one of those old pervs who try to get in my pants as soon as they can.” Again, there was no indication he was joking.

“Why would I want to sleep with someone that ugly?” giggled Rick, smiling enough so that Daryl would know he was not serious.

The other simply raised an eyebrow and scoffed, which was equivalent to a good-hearted laugh for him. “I’ve seen the way you look at me Grimes, ain’t no old-ass cop resisting my many charms.”

“First I’m only 29-”

“Holy cow, who let you out of the retirement house?” There was definitely an amused tone in Daryl’s voice now, which earned him to be thrown dirt at. At the end of the day, the mood was lighter than it ever had been even though they were covered in diverse muds and plant debris. Luckily for them, the roof on which they settled for the night had a rather easy access to a rain collector. 

The day had been warm enough so that they could enjoy a sort of bath in there. The water was already tainted by the bag of construction materials someone had accidentally dropped in it, so it was the only practical use they had found for it. Rick went first, careful not to cut himself on the rusty ladder, and swam until he found the hardened pile of gravels to rest against. After cleaning himself, there were several twigs floating on the surface and he couldn’t see his feet anymore.

What he didn’t expect was Daryl dive-bombing in the rain collector. Temporarily blinded by the muddy water, he swore a lot and tried to take vengeance by splashing as much water as he could on the offensive diver. After a lot of their usual banter, when the sky above them began to turn pink, they stopped to take their breath. 

Five feet of water was the only thing separating their naked bodies, and Daryl hadn’t lied about possessing many charms. Rick guessed his arousal only came from old fantasms of Lori and him in a jacuzzi, or it came from the fact that he has always had a soft spot for blondes. It had nothing to do with the younger man himself, he reasoned. Still, he was glad the water was too opaque for them to see the beginning of his hard-on.

“If I ask you to kill yourself?” came the sudden question.

“As long as my family is definitely safe and that it has a good purpose, like saving other people’s lives, I can do that. Otherwise no.”

“Relax, wasn’t going to ask ya to sleep with me or kill yerself anyway. Wanted ta test how serious ya were about this.”

“Satisfied?”

“Yeah,” he shrugged, idly toying with the water. “If ya weren’t you’d have said yes to both. You may call me many thangs, but I’m no rapist.” He began to swim toward the exit ladder, only turning back to flash Rick one of his rare smirks. “Though for the sleepin’, I don’t think you’d be entirely opposed.”

The other was ready to answer when he noticed his friend was already climbing, and that if he didn’t avert his eyes quickly he might witness things he didn’t want to see. Throwing water at him while looking away, he couldn’t help to smile at their previous exchange. Obviously Daryl was only teasing him, but at least he was talking to him in a friendly way. The first week had been spent in complete silence. The second week, he had waited until Saturday to utter a word. From then, each little step forward felt like jumping from a plane. Exalting, but was he sure he had a parachute? 

As they ate, Rick found himself looking at Daryl a little more than usual. He often wondered what was his personal history, why he never revealed anything about it. He had seen the scars on his back during their bath, but didn’t dare to bring out the subject. There were several of them, and the two biggest looked like the skin had been ripped off his back by something fast and hot. Maybe a bike accident? He had seen plenty bodies shredded on the asphalt because people didn’t wear protections, so it was entirely possible. 

Strangely, the mere thought of Daryl being hurt brought out a protective side in him he had thought was entirely professional. 

Now, he wasn’t so sure.


	3. Heaven can wait we're only watching the skies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, I love writing Merle. He's such an ass.
> 
> Anyway, I think there will be more than 5 chapter in the end because I'm very inspired about this story. Still haven't watched season 4 though, that's why some characters don't appear much in my fanfics. I'll try to catch up in the train tomorrow!
> 
> Comments are treasured and will be passed as family heirlooms to my offspring. Which is to say my future cats will bear that legacy proudly.
> 
> Beta'd by the lovely [FandomLifeTookMyHandAndSaidRUN](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FandomLifeTookMyHandAndSaidRUN/pseuds/FandomLifeTookMyHandAndSaidRUN) ([CarylDixonandGrimes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FandomLifeTookMyHandAndSaidRUN/pseuds/CarylDixonandGrimes))
> 
> (Chapter title is from Forever Young by Alphaville)

When Rick was beginning to think that the situation was going all right, that his contract was probably a medicine-induced hallucination, the dream came. The scent of rubbing alcohol mixed with cigarettes and decay caught him like a rope around his throat. Merle was sitting on one of the stainless steel tables of the hospital morgue, toying with a deceased body’s hair. The corpse laid still, like it was supposed to, before the apocalypse at least.

“Don’ even think about crossin’ ol’ Merle, shitface. You was doin’ a great job until ya decided I was not real,” he started, using one of the body’s hands to slap itself in the face. “Maybe ya need a lil motivation, eh? Come here boy, daddy’s gotta thang to show ya.” He then beckoned him to come closer with the corpse’s hand. 

“See, in case ya doubt it, I can make yer pathetic loved ones suffer a great dead before they beg me ta kill them. This one ya don’t know,” he continued pointing at the unrecognizable mess that was the torn up, rotting flesh. “But how about it was baby Judy? Pissy Carl? Cheating Lori? Wait no I like that one she a prime quality bitch. And yer psycho bff, maybe I should make them turn against the kids. Yeah that would be fun, haha!”

Rick felt his blood boil with rage then turn to ice with dread. 

“I can’t find your brother when I don’t know what he looks like or what name he uses! I don’t even know where he is!” He had even tried to call the mysterious “Reedus” when he was alone, only to be told to shut it and let him sleep by Daryl. 

“Shit, I knew you was an idiot but this! This is fucking gold!” resonated Merle’s awful laughter. He faked wiping a tear from the corner of his eye, smearing the dead body’s blood on his cheek in the process. On his chalk white skin, it looked even more disturbing than it did on the table. “Oh sweet princes of Hell, yer the stupidest human I could pick. I’m even tempted to let ya do yer thing with that Daryl kid, ‘ts funnier ta watch.”

“What tells me my family is even alive?! What tells me you’re not just fucking with me!” screamed Rick, in a weak attempt to regain control of the situation. He should have known it was vain.

“Careful wit’ yer words, mortal. Yer talking to motherfuckin’ royalty here. Gave ya mah solemn word, ain’t somethin’ even I can throw easily.” The voice was dangerously low, lethally threatening. “Look in the mirror on yer left, it’ll show ya what ye need ta know.”

The former officer slowly backed down, never turning his back to the demon, who was watching him intently. 

In the mirror, Lori and Shane were curled up against one another, Carl and Judith pressed between them. It felt awkwardly intimate, as if Rick wasn’t supposed to witness this. Maybe he wasn’t, after all they were divorced. But he was still relieved to them them all unharmed, if not fed enough. Lori especially, who had always been prompt to watch her weight, had sunken cheeks and very dark circles under her eyes, that may or may not have been filth. Carl had a bandage around his knee, but seemed otherwise healthy. Just when he was about to look away, Judith opened her eyes and looked directly at him, as if she could see him.

“Da?” came her little, high-pitched voice. Rick’s eyes welled and large, hot tears rolled down his cheeks freely. The image disappeared almost instantly.

“Fulfill yer end of the contract, and you’ll see ‘em alive,” reminded Merle before a rough jab on his side woke him up.

Daryl’s face occupied his whole field of vision. That close, Rick noticed the very light facial hair he had, but also how long his eyelashes seemed. If his former friends had been there, they would’ve yelled something offensive like “GAY” or “take a room you two”. Exactly how he found himself almost curled up to the hunter for the night, he had no idea. Usually they slept pretty far away, Daryl loving his personal space. It was still dark outside, none of them having dared to light a fire in that area, and Rick knew he was supposed to have taken his watch a long time ago. 

They had chosen a rather clean, empty apartment building that possessed several escape routes and numerous solid doors to hold any eventual attack. It probably was one of the safest places they’ve ever set camp in, to be honest. But it really wasn’t safe, both of them sleeping in the same place, at the same time. Yet, Rick couldn’t find himself to move. Daryl was warm next to him, the single arm he had thrown over him (probably unconsciously, but you’d never know with him) felt like a protective blanket, shielding him from any harm. 

Almost nose to nose with the younger man, he could also smell bonfire and cigarettes on him, and maybe rivers somewhere. At that moment, Rick wanted nothing more than to curl up to him and go back to more pleasant dreams. That is, until he heard the telltale quick thumps and squelches of a knife piercing a brain. Hushes came to his ears, too, definitely human. 

As he was about to wake up his friend, he found his wary blue eyes opened wide, scanning his surroundings. They exchanged a nod, pushing the “cuddling together at night” for a later, safer moment. Right now they needed to identify the threat. 

“I think I heard something!” whispered a feminine voice. 

“Shut up Andrea, they’ll hear you,” answered a harsh masculine voice. A voice that Rick could have recognized among millions. 

“Shane, is that you?” he asked, ignoring the piercing look Daryl sent him. 

“Oh my- Rick? Where are you brother?!” boomed Shane’s answer, followed by a concert of questions and hushes from his group.

“I hope you know what you’re doing or we’re screwed,” stated Daryl after having regained his composure. His elegant features were faintly illuminated by the dark orange glow of his cigarette. The trust he had started to place in Rick was one of the few things that still mattered in this fucked up world. He would do anything to earn it entirely. 

Loud as ever, his former best friend barged in after they had taken off their barricades and replaced them once the small group was inside. The younger man stayed at the far end of the room, the small dot of orange glow indicating he was near the easiest exit. At least, he hadn’t bolted out, which was a progress. 

There were two men and two women in Shane’s group. Rick quickly recognized Glenn and Andrea, whom he remembered from the day he was shot. The last man was large-shouldered, as he obstructed the window partially. When flashlights were lit, he noticed he didn’t know him. Shane studied Rick’s face for a long time, then pulled him into a bear hug. 

“Missed you Rick, we thought you hadn’t survived the whole thing… Hell, they even told me you were dead! What happened?”

“I don’t know, when I woke up Daryl told me the apocalypse had started three months ago.”

“Daryl? Who’s that?”

Rick nodded in the other man’s general direction. As he had finished to smoke, it was almost impossible to know where he was without pointing the light directly at him. Yet, Rick had developed a sort of sixth sense. He always knew where Daryl was. And from the way the lights chased shadows off of his face, he wasn’t happy at all. 

“You and this kid have been travelling alone all this time?!” asked Shane, incredulous.

“This ‘kid’ sucks yer mom’s cock,” replied Daryl from another side of the room, having dodged the flashlights as soon as he could. 

“Son of a-”

“Stop it you two, we don’t have time for that,” interrupted Rick, the familiar feeling of being in charge spreading in his chest like fire on dry twigs. “Shane, do you have a camp? A safe camp, I mean.”

“Yes, and Lori’s there, with the kids. Thought you might want to know that before we get there,” added the other man with a large smile. Rick tried to look as ecstatic as he did, but Merle’s words still clung to his back like a huge, demonic tick. “Your… friend can come too, if he wants.” By the tone he used, Shane would’ve not protested if he didn’t. 

Glenn and Andrea started to ask him questions and fill him with details about the prison they took back from the walkers. It was nice talking to people without being scowled at every two seconds, but he was beginning to worry Daryl would just slip away like he had intended the first time they met. For some reason he wasn’t ready to admit yet, Rick couldn’t let that happen.

“Do you want to come with us? I promise, if Shane trusts those people you can trust them too. Scout's Honor,” Rick said to his friend, staying far enough away for him not to feel cornered.

“If you was a scout, you’d know how to light a fire without my help,” scoffed Daryl in return, lighting another smoke. 

The older man dared to approach a little closer, so that the others wouldn’t hear them. Despite the cloak of smoke surrounding Daryl’s face, he knew their eyes were aligned and that he had the hunter’s undivided attention.

“Wherever you go, I go,” said Rick barely above a whisper. “I just need to see my children. Especially my daughter, she’s 19 months old and she hasn’t seen her father in almost half a year…”

“You got your wife back there, your best friend and lot’s a’ friendly people ta keep ya company. Why’d ya want ta keep a rude redneck when ya can have all of that?”

“Because…” He stopped. Daryl had a point, they had no rational reason to stay together except from the fact that they were a good team. A cloud of white smoke was exhaled in his general direction, seemingly surrounding them from the exterior world. His eyes burned a little, and something in his brain told him so much smoke wasn’t natural. 

“Because I care about you,” he breathed, feeling intimidated for the first time in a very long time by the younger man’s commanding aura. It was not a revelation, they both had suggested they already knew that several times. But words have power, and in the blink of an eye Rick thought he had seen a genuine smile on Daryl’s lips. The moment passed, and when Shane called his name to know their decision, it seemed as if there never had been any smoke in the room at all. 

“Gettin’ kinda tired of rodent meat, hope they have better food,” he simply shrugged, his bag already on his shoulder. “I’m in.”


	4. Nobody likes you when you're 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm very excited to present you the first instance of smut in this fanfic. Also, tons and tons of fluff, because Rick and Daryl are cute together. And some Sherle, because I felt inspired. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy it! As always, comments will be attached to the walls in my grandparents' house next to my other exploits (help a grandma, leave a comment lol).
> 
> Beta'd by the lovely [FandomLifeTookMyHandAndSaidRUN](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FandomLifeTookMyHandAndSaidRUN/pseuds/FandomLifeTookMyHandAndSaidRUN) ([CarylDixonandGrimes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FandomLifeTookMyHandAndSaidRUN/pseuds/CarylDixonandGrimes))
> 
> (Chapter title is from What's My Age Again by Blink-182, I swear I will create an 8track playlist at some point with these)

“Dad!” came the wavering cry, before the teenage boy crashed into his father with all of the strength his gangly arms could muster. There were tears and smiles and questions and stories. Carl didn't care about anyone who could see him and wept happily in his father’s arms, finally feeling something else than the numb pain he had carried for the last 6 months.

It was quickly followed by a choked wail from Lori and happy baby giggles. His ex-wife had a hand pressed to her lips, their daughter on her hip trying to escape her hold. Rick felt happy. Despite all of the poison that had been spit back and forth, which eventually led to their divorce, there was some satisfaction to feel in seeing her tears of joy when she witnessed him alive. They hadn’t left in the best conditions, but nothing like a rumored death to put silly things behind, right?

The camp they were all in was massive. A part of it was an entire town, the second one a prison they had reconquered from walkers ; in between a tightly surveilled road guarded by heavily armed thugs. More than a hundred people, carefree and healthy-looking, lived in there. Children, especially, looked like the apocalypse almost never happened. Curious people, woken up by the noise, had come out of their homes. Some of them looked a bit like Rick’s old neighbors, though he couldn’t say for sure. ‘Welcome to Woodbury!’ was colorfully painted on a huge wooden panel, adorned by tiny hand prints. 

A single glance to Daryl’s scowl confirmed they agreed on the whole thing being too good to be true. When the other shoe would drop with the strength of an atomic warhead, it was no doubt the younger man would be long gone. He was already staying as close as possible to the entrance door, so pale and tense he looked a few seconds away from a heart attack. Something stirred inside Rick’s chest, pressing him to shield Daryl from the growing crowd of welcomers. 

His friend may have been the most apt to protect him from the dead ; among the living Rick felt it was the least he could do to come to his rescue. Discreetly, he walked in circles around Daryl with his daughter drooling on his shoulder, stopping people from accosting him. The same way as they went outside, the younger man quickly took back his place in Rick’s blind spot, as the former officer did the same. It wasn’t even something they did consciously. It felt natural.

“We’re glad to know that the hero Carl can’t stop gibbering about is among us!” beckoned a someone with a large, fake salesman smile. In his forties, the man looked like your regular suburban guy, perhaps trying a bit too much to impress. He could have almost looked urban, if his too-white teeth didn’t spark like those of a shark. 

“I’m the Governor, head of Woodbury if you will. You’re welcome to stay here as long as you want. We have jobs for strong men like you, something a bit more interesting than killing walkers. But Shane will fill you on this, for now I’d say Milton shows you where you can sleep. Tomorrow, if you’re willing to there are empty houses we can help you fix.”

“Whoever need to call himse’f shitty titles ain’t no deserving none ‘a ‘em,” growled Daryl behind Rick. 

“I don’t see it as a title, but as a sign of the responsibility to watch over those people. We’re like a big family. They’d call me ‘Father’, if it didn’t already have religious connotations haha,” answered the man with a forced laugh. His men laughed too, as if Daryl’s remark had been nothing but a spirited joke. 

“Come on brother, keep a tighter leash on your mutt or he’ll bite us all,” muttered Shane, holding Lori’s hand. 

Rick thought Daryl was about to hit someone, possibly in the genitals, when the man named Milton diplomatically offered to show them the dormitories. Lori caught Rick’s arm as he was about to leave to invite him to dinner at her house, to celebrate his miraculous return. He accepted with an easy smile, reluctantly handing Judy back to her before heading toward the dormitories. 

-

On the first day, they were given assignments. Hours and places to be, jobs to do. Despite having served for years in the force, Rick still found it weird to have someone else giving him orders. When it was just the two of them, it was different. Whenever they disagreed, it was settled by something stupid like tossing a coin, improvising a catch match or comparing who could pee the farthest. Now, they only saw each other to fix the house, fix a meal, and fix other things like their friendship.

Those few instances in the middle of the afternoon when they tried to understand how to build the things they needed were the only ones they spend together awake. Their nights under their leaking roof were spent swearing, smoking, rarely talking. Yet, both of them would have rather slept under a tree in the middle of the storm than going back where they were assigned to sleep on the first day. 

Originally staying with Lori’s new family, Rick felt like a distant -and quite frankly invading- family member. Someone they appreciated, but would soon see gone, off to his own place. However, his mild discomfort was nothing compared to the hell Daryl lived in the men’s public dormitories. At some point, Rick had cornered him to have a better look at the purplish bruises and puffy eyes. Then, three men had come out of the medicine center with various fractures, the two friends right behind them with split lips and bloody knuckles.

It was about that moment when Lori decided Rick was a bad examples to the kids, and Daryl was sanctioned to never set foot again in the dormitories. The house they had been able to chose next barely was four walls. A week later it still leaked, but there was at least one dry corner. They never touched like they did on that night they never spoke about. However, they slept back to back ‘in case someone seeks trouble’. Truth be told, it was their only safe place from the rest of the world.

At some point, Daryl decided to put all the water in their living room to good use. When Rick came home from work, bloody and gory and sweaty, he found a medium-sized tin recipient filled up with steaming water. Drying his hair like a wet dog by shaking his head in all directions, his roommate looked like he had just left the improvised bathtub. 

After warming up the not-so-clean water, the former officer carefully stepped in it and _-aah_. There are few things that felt as good as an orgasm, and this was definitely one of them. He might’ve moaned aloud, too. From the way Daryl was snickering at him, it was entirely possible it had sounded very obscene. Rick felt a shameful blush crawl on his shoulders, but blamed the steam. 

Lighting one of the Woodbury’s old ladies club handmade cigarettes, the younger man sat next to him with his shoulder pressed against the warmth of the tin tub. Weather hadn’t been kind to them, as testified the three sneezes that immediately followed.

“You sneeze like a kitten,” joked Rick, taking the infamous stick from his friend’s hand. Truth be told it was probably even more cancerous than the original thing, since the ladies intended to keep the recipe a secret as long as they could. It tasted like stale mint and smelled like burnt hair, and even though he was absolutely sure there was tobacco in there, it more or less felt like smoking garbage bins. 

“Fuck you Grimes, ya sneeze like a… like a dad.”

“Technically, I’m a dad,” he snorted, giving the smoke back to Daryl who inhaled it with a disgusted frown on his face. 

“Shit, yer old man. I’m only 23 and I feel bad fer you, being all creaky and stuff,” he then answered, whatever illness he had caught making his words even more slurred than usual.

“Hello ‘only 23’ I’m-”

“Don’t you fuckin’ dare,” he spat with more joke than animosity in his tone. 

They stayed like this a long time, passing cigarettes back and forth. If not for his friend occasionally sneezing, Rick would have fallen asleep in the lukewarm water. At some point he might have, since the images floating before his eyes had nothing to do with a crappy home and the warm brushes of Daryl’s fingers against his. 

The place looked incredibly tacky, as if someone had tried to recreate their GTA house in real life. There were no windows, either, which may have been why it smelled so bad. Resisting the urge to throw up, Rick tried to move, see if there was a vent or something that could filter the vitiated air. The unmistakable wet sounds he could hear made a shiver run down his spine. He didn’t want to see that. Yet he still went.

As his reluctant feet led him toward a smallish room at the end of the apartment, he managed to distinguish voices. Both were definitely male, one of them dubiously enjoying the intercourse. Or maybe he was, from his cries only it was hard to say. As a former cop who had to arrest people in their most intimate moments before, what worried him the most was the smell of dead flesh. Junkies usually smelled a bit like that, from their total absence of hygiene, but it was different. Stronger. 

Rick was not prepared for what he saw next. 

Pressed against a glass panel, Shane was facing him. His eyes were covered by a piece of cloth, his mouth was gagged as well. Naked as the day he was born, there were several crimson ropes tying his limbs tightly. He could have admired the crisscrossing pattern as it, indeed, enhanced his former partner’s muscular frame while keeping his erection from spilling all over the fogged glass, but he was too horrified to react in any way.

What seemed to be a moving leather cord was forcefully thrusting the slit of his dark red member, pearly liquid oozing from it as soon as the thing (the tail?!) pulled out, only to come back in in quick thrusts. Each time, Shane’s voice rippled in the whole room, painfully enjoying himself. Two very strong hands framed his hips, bruising the tan skin and tearing it a little with long black claws. A plethora of liquids pooled on the ground, threatening to make Shane or his partner slip on a mixture or sweat, drool, precome and a few drops of blood.

The man behind him quickened his pace, making Shane rut against the panel, tears falling from under the blindfold and his voice becoming an almost endless cry of ecstasy. The hands loosened their grip, petting Shane’s body with something akin to tenderness. Soft words were murmured in his ear, which seemed to make him melt even more against the demon’s body.

Overwhelmed by a feeling of betrayal and wrongness, Rick finally recognized Merle, fucking his best friend seemingly with the latter's consent. He woke up with a startled cry, but it was too late. He had seen them sharing a long, heated and surprisingly intimate kiss. There was no doubt Shane had willingly been there. There was no doubt either that what he had just seen was not a dream, but a side effect of Merle having messed too much with his mind. 

Then he realized he was still in his makeshift bath, his cheeks wet with tears. Daryl was looking at him with a strange expression, half-frightened, half-concerned. Without thinking too much about it, the older man wrapped his arms around him and buried his head in his shoulder. He just wanted to forget what he had seen. 

Realizing who he was desperately clinging up to, in what kind of attire, Rick was about to pull out and apologize. However, at that precise moment he felt the other man awkwardly trying to return the embrace. Deciding he needed the comfort more than anything else in that moment, the former officer simply rested his forehead against Daryl’s clavicle, and tried to breathe.

After a few tense seconds, Daryl started to relax against him. He was warm and smelled his familiar scent of firewood and wilderness. The shaggy blonde hair he had started to grow longer and longer felt soft and a little damp against his temple. The pulse he could feel under it was becoming steadier, if only a little faster than it should have been. 

“Sorry,” Rick said, pulling back in an attempt to break the embrace. Two friends weren’t supposed to hug like that, he thought. He didn’t want Daryl to think he was lusting after him. Maybe he was, if he was being completely honest with himself, but there was more than that. Whatever was between them lately, he didn't want to fuck it up. However, the younger man put his hand on Rick’s nape and pushed him back against his shoulder. 

“Saw what ya saw man, an’ honestly I think I need that hug too,” he shyly admitted. Rick closed his eyes and wrapped his arms a little tighter, smiling when he felt Daryl do the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you wonder: this was not a rape scene. Rick rightfully felt disturbed by it, but it definitely was consensual.


	5. Cold as Ice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go! This chapter is longer than usual because I needed to further develop Rick and Shane's relationship, especially since the previous revelations. 
> 
> As you may be aware I have loads of different stories that I'm writing at the same time, so there can be some delay if I find out I prefer one over the other at some point. Sympathy for the Devil is my priority at the moment, followed by my pokemon AU collab with JeromeSankara, then the rest. I don't have a precise schedule but I'd say SftD will be updated every three days or something like that :)
> 
> Also thanks to the wonderful people of the Rickyl's Writers Group, you guys are amazing~
> 
> Beta'd by the lovely [FandomLifeTookMyHandAndSaidRUN](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FandomLifeTookMyHandAndSaidRUN/pseuds/FandomLifeTookMyHandAndSaidRUN) ([CarylDixonandGrimes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FandomLifeTookMyHandAndSaidRUN/pseuds/CarylDixonandGrimes))
> 
> Chapter title is from Cold as Ice by Foreigner.

The first time Rick smelled pot in their house, he thought he was going to kill Daryl for being so irresponsible. The hunter was no rebellious teenager, most of the time he at least gave the impression of being reliable. But this, this was putting them all in danger. Atlanta may not have been Albuquerque or Detroit, they still had their fair share of drug addicts and small cartels. As a former cop, but also as a former college student, Rick had seen what it did to people’s brains. Being turned was (almost) a blessing, in comparison.

If only Philip Fucking Blake, as it appears the Governor’s name was, would have left him alone more than three seconds, he could have confronted his roommate about it. However, since the extreme awkwardness of the ‘dream’, Daryl preferred to sleep somewhere else. As his neck was covered in hickies he didn’t even bother to hide, he had found a way to occupy his nights, too.

Rick’s blood boiled harder than hellfire at that thought. It was confusing. Daryl was not _his_. He was no one’s but his own, and if he wanted to date someone Rick had no authority to forbid him that. Except he couldn’t lie to himself on that one. Not only did he greatly miss their hard-earned friendship, but he also was unbelievably jealous of whoever marked his skin. It wasn’t normal.

It would be incorrect to say he had never found men attractive, he had. The former deputy had seen a lot of things in his few years in the force. From married gangsters trying to pull a Bonnie and Clyde stunt but with a John and a Robert, to crying middle-aged men who couldn’t bear the pressure from their homophobic parents. Some cops couldn’t bear to question their education, and perpetuated generations of hate. Some others, like Rick, had wondered if it could ever happen to them, and found out they were strangely okay with it. 

Shane was in-between, trying to be supportive to his friends but not completely managing to shake the disgust from his eyes when men flirted with him. As a stupid experiment, perhaps as a test of courage, but mostly out of curiosity, he had played chicken once with Rick. Lori hadn’t found it funny at all, she almost broke up with him after that. The two friends, however, were reassured to know with certainty that they were not attracted to men.

That is, until a heavily drunk Rick had had a one-night stand on the day of his 19th birthday. He never told anyone, barely remembered what happened besides how good it had felt. But then, again, sleeping with Lori was damn good, too. Not knowing how to label how he felt, he just put the memory on his imaginary wall of achievements, and promptly cut any emotional value it could have had. 

He had stayed that way, rather comfortable in being part of the visible majority but open-minded enough to still protect the minorities. What he felt for Daryl did not compare at all with the lazy aesthetic appreciation Rick could have for some men’s features. It was like a galaxy-sized landslide, something so cosmically gigantic that no life could survive it’s catastrophic wrath. And now he didn’t know if he wanted to punch him in the face, or to press their lips together. Both, probably. 

“Don’t you have something to tell me?” he spat that night, as a weary Daryl shot him a dirty glance for this undeserved show of hostility. 

“No. Do you though?” the younger man shot back, hanging his crossbow on the wall. “If ya want ta fight, be quick ‘bout it. Haf’ta be out in forty minutes.”

“Oh I won’t keep you from your date very long, don’t worry,” said Rick, cringing internally at the pure jealousy he could hear in his own voice. Daryl raised an eyebrow, looking increasingly pissed off, but the other man didn’t let him answer. “Why does the whole goddamn house smell like marijuana?!”

“You’re such a fuckin’ moron,” was Daryl’s retort, as he dug into his bag then forced something against Rick’s chest with his palm. The mysterious object was a bunch of silvery-looking herbs, tightly tied by purple, red and white thread. A good chunk of it was burned, the ends of the twigs completely black. Some of it smothered on Rick’s shirt. It’s strong smell seemed very close to marijuana, but it definitely was not.

“What is it?” he asked, now more curious than pissed off. Staying angry at Daryl was hard, especially when his features softened like they did. Their fingers brushed longer than necessary when the younger man took the herbs back, pushing them back into his bag.

“Nothin’ illegal, Officer. Jus’ sage, ta cleanse the air.”

“Well it didn’t work, smells like shit.”

“It did work, yer just too dense ta notice it.” There was a sly smirk tugging Daryl’s lips as he continued. “That’s magic for ya, only works if ya believe. Mah daddy didn’t, look where that got him.”

“And where is that?”

As always with Daryl, the way his eyes closed and his shoulders clenched like a cougar ready to jump indicated that Rick had asked the wrong question. He didn’t expect the younger man to answer him, but he couldn’t have said his words surprised him.

“Sick fuck’s rottin in hell where he belongs.”

Even if their eyes didn’t quite meet, the younger man’s proximity felt like cold water on a burn. It shouldn’t have been such a revelation, but at that moment Rick realized he wanted nothing more than to close the thin gap between them. He felt sick and euphoric at the same time, so shaken up by the desire rushing his veins he almost trembled. 

Biting his lip in a way that shouldn’t even be legal, but seemed totally unconscious, the hunter in front of him kept his eyes somewhere on Rick’s chest. Their legs almost touched. Even if he had wanted, he couldn’t have looked anywhere else than Daryl’s tantalizing face. The younger man’s quickened breath like a kiss on his skin felt simultaneously too much and not enough.

Raising a hand with the firm intention to bring him closer, Rick started to lean forward when Daryl snapped out of his trance. Using his impossible agility, he picked up his bag and strode to the door in what felt like less than a second. Feeling more ashamed than he had in decades, the former officer coughed to hide his embarrassment and the maddening blush on his cheeks. Daryl didn’t look back at him, already stepping out in the night.

“Don’t wait for me, I’ll stay out late,” he nonetheless stated, his hand gripping the handle tight. “... and don’t worry it’s not a date.”

The former deputy stared at the door long after it was closed. What did that mean? 

\- 

“I don’t mean to assume anythang, brother,” started Shane, looking uncomfortable. “But there’s some bad blood between us, and I don’t get where it comes from. If it’s about your lo- about Daryl…”

“It’s not about him, though I’ve already told you he’s just a friend,” interrupted Rick, more curtly than intended. The Woodbury men behind them pretended they weren’t eavesdropping, but he knew about everyone wanted to know if there was something between them. Hell, even he wanted to know that answer. 

“Not judging if you guys were to… y’know. As long as it doesn’t get between our friendship. You’re my best bro, you know that?”

He didn’t want to get mad at Shane, he really did. There was no way what he had seen was just a dream, on the other hand. His accusatory glances weren’t helping, either.

“I wouldn’t judge it either if you were fucking Merle,” he spat, before he could stop himself. “Does Lori know? I don’t think so.”

His face paler than chalk, Shane completely stopped in his tracks. A nice summer breeze rustled the leaves in the trees, some birds sung in the distance. The sun splattered in minuscule sparkles on their skins, threatening to burn if not for the cover of the leaves. His features contorted in confusion and anger.

“What the fuck are you talking about?!” he barked, then turning to the other men, “The fuck you assholes’ starin’ at?!”

Suddenly hesitant, the Rick stared at the other former officer. He remembered the day he found out his wife and his best friend had betrayed him as if it had been the day before. At that moment he had almost reached for his gun, to end the both of them. But Carl needed his mother, he had thought. If not for his son, he would have killed them on the spot. At the moment, his bloodlust felt as strong, if not stronger, than it had been that fateful day.

“Answer me honestly,” he barked in turn. If Shane offered his throat to a dog, he would treat him like one. “Do you have any idea what I’m talking about?”

Now, the thing with having practically been raised with someone else is that one is bound to teach the other how to lie. It may have been the only time Rick taught anything to Shane, his childhood model, but no one knew how to hide the truth as well as the shy kid with strict parents. Shane’s family already had the son they’ve always wanted, lying only became a necessity when they had to justify alcohol under a bed. 

Rick had taken his friend’s face in his hands, he remembered. The other teen had joked about “not being homo”, and squirmed under the expected strength of the grip. Rick had commanded him with all the authority of a general at war to lie to him. Had smacked his head each time he did wrong. Had corrected his eyes, his tone, his words. In the end, he may have been good. He was nowhere near the kid who could never be himself anywhere.

“I don’t know what you saw, what you think you saw, Rick. I don’t know who ‘Merle’ is,” Shane carefully answered. 

A bad lie is sometimes the better confession possible. If he really hadn’t known what they were talking about, he would have said it. Thing is, he didn’t. Trying to find anything resembling remorse in those pitch black eyes, anything indicating the joyful boy next door still lived somewhere, Rick felt his heart close up hermetically. Both of those children, the prodigal son and the eternal wimp, were probably dead anyway. He turned his back and caught up to the other men. 

As they progressed, he searched in his memory where things had gone wrong. Furious as he was, Shane was still his partner in crime, his best mate, his brother. They had no common blood, but it didn’t matter. They were -had been, at least- tied by vows, which were supposed to be stronger.

When Shane’s mothers were still friends with the Grimes, before the Accident, they had gathered strength to build the boys the best tree house ever. In his mind’s eye, Rick still saw it as alternatively a castle, a submarine, a pirate ship, the ISS. Truth is, it was just a box two meters above the ground with a rusty corrugated iron roof. They had outgrown it by the age of 10, but thankfully learned how to extend it by age 15. 

It was their bastion against the world. When Rick would feel strangled by his parent’s principles, or when Shane did something he knew he would be grounded for, they grabbed their old walkie-talkie and set a meeting. One of them would bring blankets, the other some food, and they would talk all night until they fell asleep against one another. 

Then high school took its toll on them. Rick was too busy with advanced classes, Shane couldn’t miss football practice. Soon, girlfriends (Shane’s, obviously) were thrown into the lot, too. It wasn’t that they didn’t have time for their friendship, it’s just that they weren’t willing to make some.

The Accident changed everything, though. Shane’s mum wasn’t supposed to work that day, but she had a very important client to meet in New York, she said. She wouldn’t be home until the 12th, she said. The last thing she said to her son before the plane hit her tower was how proud she was of the man he had become. 

Rick had been there to catch the falling pieces of his friend and try to put them back together. Each time he would fall apart, the other teen was there to help him recover and protect him from bullies. Each time Shane needed stronger legs to carry him, Rick was there. They never talked about the harshest therapy sessions, or the times Shane’s mom would bring drunk strangers home. The police academy was an occasion to start anew, and they both took it after Rick had been kicked out for wanting to marry his girlfriend. 

Shane probably didn’t deserve the depth of the love Rick had for him, but he did deserve his wrath. First Lori, then Merle, then who? Daryl? Quickly looking at the rugged man his friend had become, teaching a teen how to stop trembling when she aimed, he wondered where the change had happened. There was no trace of the goofy, easy-going child Shane had been, nor of the broken shell he had been as a teen in his calm, military demeanor. 

As he took the lead of their raiding group, Rick wondered if he would ever be able to find the strength to forgive him once again.

-

The Walmart had been barricaded, probably by the locals, judging by the amount of corpses piled up behind the makeshift barriers. The Georgian wind carried undiscerned stenches to their poor noses. In their raiding clothes, even they smelled only half as bad. A lanky teen with broken teeth and tattoos of questionable taste, suggested they tried their luck somewhere else. However, the tall woman whose name Rick didn’t remember either was still the leader of their group. Like any good leader, she also knew the dispute in the woods could be at least partially quenched by the promised amount of violence of her plan.

Rick went into automatic mode. He stopped counting how many skulls he blew, how many bullets he fired. The comfortable weight of his Colt in his hand was replaced by an AK-47 which did jam and had to be traded with a crowbar at some point. Vaguely aware of the cloying blood on his forearms, soaking his shirt wet, he didn’t stop. Sweat burned his eyes, he didn’t care. 

His anger was poured on the crowd of hungry walkers, not dissimilar of Achilles’ wrath under the walls of Troy. Feeling as invincible as the demigods from the stories his mother didn’t want him to read, he kept ignoring the rest of the world until he was cornered. Finally catching a breath he didn’t know he had lost, he found out there was no way out. Panic, like a sewer-brewed moonshine, tied up his guts in his throat. 

The former officer was pressed against a brick wall, the only thing separating him from the walkers was a large door he had to hold with his legs. The other door on his right meant he had to let go of the door he was holding. It was probably locked, anyway. Above him, a mocking parody of freedom, the sky was beginning to abandon its colors to the night.

He couldn’t collapse, either. Crying for help was useless, yet he still did. The tattooed kid was on the upper floor, there was a chance he’d hear him and at least call the others. Or put him out of his misery if needed. When you live with fear as your walking stick everyday, you become desensitized to it. When you find safety, or just someone to care about, it comes back a hundred times worse.

His screams died first, when his throat become too tight with thirst and his muscles too weak to be wasted. He couldn’t leave Carl like this. Not after having miraculously given him his father back. He had to know the truth Shane was hiding from him, to protect the others if it was as dangerous as he believed it to be. 

_Daryl._

Finding new strength in that name alone, Rick reaffirmed his grip on the door and hollered, one last time. Nobody answered him. Yet, he had to live, so he held up. The night was falling on him. How many hours exactly he had spent slashing and hacking, he had no idea. His arms were red to the elbow, and his clothes felt uncomfortably wet against his skin. 

The demon’s words came back to his mind. This time would be the very last time. There was a chance he would not turn, but he was no demonic lawyer to judge the exact application of his contract. That gave him an idea, though.

“Merle! You son of a bitch, answer me!” he tried to shout, only managing a rage-filled whisper. “How am I supposed to fulfil my task if I die now?!”

Unsurprisingly, no one answered his plea. On top of having been completely useless, the door had opened slightly more, to the point where dirty fingers had managed to breach out. As their split up nails raked tirelessly against the bricks, Rick felt very much like crying. He was fucked. 

He needed to breathe. To gain focus, to think, to find a solution. The other door would most likely be locked, since he had needed keys for the one he was holding. Said keys had fallen a short distance away. Rick pictured the maneuver in his head clearly: let go of the door, jump for the keys, open the other one, lock it. There were too many things that could go wrong with the plan, though. The dead could be quicker than him. The keys might not be the right ones. The next room could be packed with Zs. 

A small rattle got his attention. From one of the few windows above, a man was staring at him. The scarce light didn’t help him distinguish the man’s features, but he didn’t act like one of the walkers. If anything, the gun he pointed at Rick indicated that. The former officer’s blood turned to ice. 

“This is not personal,” carried the man’s voice, echoing against the dirty bricks. “But you have something I want.”

The tone, the accent, everything sounded familiar. He was absolutely sure he had heard it before.

“What do you want from me?” 

“Very few of us ignore the barter you made with the Prince and the Bastard. It was extremely ill-advised to promise one you’d give him what he want, and to break the exact same thing for the other. One of them is going to want to have the Heart first, you know.”

There was a deafening pause, as even the walkers seemed to recede a bit. Advancing further, Rick was finally able to recognize the Governor’s trademark poker face. Something was weird around his eyes, as only one of them looked real in the deem light.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“Yes, you do. They both use fake names, but you’re not stupid. Now, what you don’t know is the value of what you’re keeping. The Heart of the Bastard,” the Govenor calmly explained, capital letters laced with sarcasm, “can resurrect one life, if you know how to use it correctly… and make the right sacrifice.”

Clearly enjoying himself, despite saying otherwise, he shouldered his rifle. 

“As you may have guessed, you’re the sacrifice.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always and forever, I love to read your comments so please leave one if you want <3


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